I Carry You With Me
by SkinnyLove18
Summary: A collection of one-shots set throughout the series. Most have been previously published on Tumblr. I just really miss this show right now.
1. His Shirt

The shirt fell over her easily like a lot of his shirts have so many times before. It's worn and oversized, and she gladly welcomes the warmth of it. The familiarity of it has always been a comfort. It's him, however small of a piece it is.

His shirt.

The bed is empty and cold, and not theirs, but he still manages to linger. He's there, in the fabric of his shirt. There's something so powerful about smell. It triggers memory. Not always welcome, but somehow manages to resurface through the cloudiness of one's mind. It's quick and it's vivid, and it makes her question her decisions of leaving him out of this.

Kate buries her nose in his shirt and takes a deep breath of him in, and she's back in his kitchen wearing his red T-shirt . She's cooking breakfast as he walks in, his hair all rustled from sleep. He looked utterly adorable. His bulky frame leans against the counter and reaches out a hand to steal some of the eggs. She swats his nimble fingers away from the food with a playful smile and ignores the fire that has been slowly burning in her chest as the innocent attraction to him may be turning into something more.

A car horn brings her back to reality as she opens her eyes not to their bedroom, but to the hotel room she's been staying at. She stares blankly at the entryway. It's dark, but the city lights highlight the archway in a mind-numbing way. She brings her knees a little closer to her chest, grits her teeth as the rough sheets rub against her skin. She wills her mind to relax so this day can just end.

She's walking quietly into their bedroom, her bare feet sticking slightly to the hardwood floor as she tries her best to balance the two coffees she's made. She's nervous about what this all means, but so damn happy that it's happening. It's a whirlwind of different emotions that flood her system but just as quickly disappear as soon as she locks eyes with him. He's half covered in the sheets of the bed, his body slowly relaxing itself as he finds her in the entryway of the room. There are remnants of something that troubled him, but that is swiftly overshadowed by that smile: the smile that feels like it is only ever meant for her. It's infectious, and as she moves close to his side of the bed she welcomes the feelings she's been pushing away for so long. She hums as his hand pushes away his shirt to meet the skin of her shoulder, slightly parts her lips as she feels his breath brush them; and then she lets herself fall a little bit in more love with him.

A tear escapes which she quickly wipes away with the collar of his shirt. This is almost over she tells herself. He's safe and that's all that matters. Everything is going to be alright in the end. It has to be. They've been through worse.

She starts to drift, enveloped in her only solace. Her thumb mindlessly plays with the wedding band on her finger as she tries to push some of her worries out with an exhale. She catches a whiff of him again, and then he's there. His body aligned with her back. His hand finding its way under her shirt so it can rest against the warmth of her abdomen. Her memory pulls him closer. The scruff of his cheek against her neck, his lips softly brushing her chin, the 'I love you' he whispers in her ear.

She wakes up in the morning alone, just like she has done every morning over the past few weeks. But this time his presence is just a little bit stronger and she can't help but smile at how he always finds a way back in. The man is relentless. It's one of the many reasons she fell in love with him.

* * *

As always, thank you for reading. - Steph


	2. Won't You Come to Me and Rest

He should be sleeping, but he can't seem to quiet his mind long enough to drift off. Darkness surrounds him, but at least she's there. She's safe and sound in their bed, exhausted from the past couple days - days no one should ever have to endure. He's exhausted too, but he can't seem to will his sight to look away from her. The defined lines of her figure sticking out from underneath the covers, how her hair is splayed across her pillow. He doesn't want her to disappear once he closes his eyes.

He was too late again today.

Just like at the cemetery as he rushed toward her; as he fell with her onto the green grass. He held her body as she lost consciousness, looked into her eyes as she closed them while his hands were slowly being stained with her blood. He was the last thing she saw in that moment.

Except not this time.

This time he wasn't given that small privilege of being there with her. This time he found her lifeless body bound to a chair. This time he fell to the ground on his own, his knees smacking into the concrete. This time there were no pleas to the universe not to take her from him as doctors tried to save her, and this time there were no confessions of love. This time, there were just his sobs of "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" as he rested his forehead against her abdomen while his tears stained her shirt.

In that instant, she was irrevocably torn from him. He wept for the loss of her. The smile he would never see again, the warmth of her skin against his, her laugh that would make him fall in love with her a hundred times over.

And to have that all back again? He's never been so grateful for anything in his entire life. Just hours before, he kneeled in front of her chilled body, and seeing her alive in that hospital bed was indescribable. Consoled only by the rise and fall of her chest; it swept through him with such a ferocity that he shook with it as it attempted to fight off the feeling of utter hopelessness. A loss that he would mourn for the rest of his life.

He's sitting in the dark with the realization that the loss of his wife will always be there, it's just too powerful to be forgotten. Even if it wasn't really her in that warehouse. For him, in those minutes, it was real. It will linger, but diminish with time; become overshadowed by the happiness of a life lived with her by his side. How amazing it is to be given another chance at that. Because this time, he took her home from the hospital. This time he helped her into their bed with his hands soaking up the warmth of the skin at her waist. This time she kissed his neck as her head sank into her pillow; felt like the luckiest man in the world as he waited for her grip on his shirt to lessen when she drifted off to sleep. This time, he could take care of her

He walks over to his side of the bed and lays down. He reaches for her, encompasses her with his embrace and breathes her in. She hums in approval and nuzzles even closer to him.

This time, when he falls asleep beside her, she will be there when he wakes up no matter what his dreams will try and tell him.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for your feedback. I appreciate it more than you know.


	3. A Writer and His Muse

_Anonymous asked: The Squab and the Quail happened before Caskett got together._

* * *

Castle mindlessly answers his ringing phone, and only seconds later becomes momentarily rooted in his spot. He doesn't really hear anything past the words "Beckett" and "sniper"; the words a loud presence in his mind as panic immediately takes hold of him, steals the breath right from his lungs.

He can't think straight.

He's fumbling for his keys, his hands blindly feeling for them on the counter. Why aren't they where he left them?

"Yo, Castle you there?"

Esposito's voice abruptly stops his search. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here," he says in a rush.

"You heard me say she's fine? The bullet totally missed them."

Yeah, he heard that right? No, probably not.

"Okay, thanks Espo. I'm-I'm heading over now. Thanks for the heads up."

He hails a cab seconds later, anxiously puts his hands in his coat pockets to stop them from shaking. "Beckett" and "sniper" are two words that should never be used in the same sentence. Never. His heart will surely stop the next time, the words his very own bullet.

His fingers find his keys in the depth of his right pocket; he shakes his head at himself because he should have remembered that's where he left them. He starts to jostle them. This case just needs to be over. But for right now, he just needs to see her.

* * *

His eyes search for her before he even enters Vaughn's penthouse; returns a nod to a uniform as he steps through the entrance. He doesn't even try to fight the tunnel vision that completely takes over him when it comes to Kate Beckett.

He finds her with Ryan, who looks to be taking her statement. He watches from a distance, takes a moment to steady his rapid breaths, as the both of them stand uncomfortably close to a window with a tiny round bullet hole, made by a bullet that got too uncomfortably close to Beckett.

And then Castle's already writing it. Eric Vaughn in one of his billionaire suits weaving some words together with his swoon worthy accent and his dashing good looks, trying to charm his way in. And she lets him, stands before him with her unwavering stance and steely gaze. She lets him move closer wondering, 'what if'?

He makes a fist as jealousy unfurls inside of him, stops his mind from wandering too far. Just the thought of them alone in here - but he has no claim on her; he consciously takes a deep breath in and releases it, no matter how stupidly in love he is with her.

His feet are already carrying him towards the two of them as he battles to silence his very vivid imagination.

Once he's close enough he tries to catch her sight, but her soft curls hide some of her face from him, creating a shadow around her soft features; always a mystery, this woman. She shifts from foot to foot, her eyes watching, but not completely focused on whatever notes Ryan scribbles down. Uneasiness comes off of her in waves, as her tongue slips out to briefly wet her bottom lip.

She's nervous.

But why?

"Well, if you ask me this penthouse is a little much."

Her eyes snap to his as soon as the first words leave his lips, makes him wish he chose a not so obvious opening line. Her gaze openly searches his, full of a silent apology that catches him off guard.

"Oh, really?" Ryan quips, looking at Castle knowingly. He should really work on thinking before he speaks.

Castle narrows his eyes at Ryan, almost misses the smirk Beckett lets slip. The act completely captures his attention; she's not looking at him, but without a doubt she can see right through him.

There's just so much uncertainty between them. A line that was drawn god knows how long ago becomes blurry with each passing day. With each touch, with each smile shared between them - how much she lets him see. And then there are moments like this, where this time Mr. I Was Voted One Of The Hundred Most Interesting People On The Planet shows up with eyes only for Beckett and no history between them. A fresh, uncomplicated start.

Vaughn didn't re-open her mother's case four years ago, he didn't leave for a whole summer and not call her. He didn't hold her on the ground as she painted the grass in red, and his hands aren't forever stained with her.

Richard Castle is irrevocably stained with her; the smiles she lets slip, her determination, her strength, and the complete adoration he catches when she thinks he's not looking.

Ryan gives the two of them a look and walks away with his notepad. Beckett's sight follows Ryan as he makes his way over towards Esposito, and Castle can't take his eyes off of her.

Whatever this is between them, one thing is for sure, he loves her. "Hey, you okay?" His hand wants to reach for her, but he doesn't allow it. Instead he waits, his presence a reassurance that he's here if she needs him.

She looks up at him and gives him a slight smile.

"Yeah, I'm okay Castle." And then her arm extends towards him, lets her hand brush against his suit covered arm, and then trails her fingers ever so lightly along the material; her thoughts loudly ticking away, but unreadable.

His shoulders relax slightly at the whisper of her contact, he wishes he could feel her touch on his skin, wishes she would just let him have at least a peek at what she's thinking.

"I heard there was a sniper - and I -" He casts his eyes down as memories worm their way in, choosing to show her how heavy thoughts can be instead of hiding the lingering emotions from that day.

Her hand is back at his arm, this time she grips the fabric. "Castle, look at me."

How can he not look at her?

She studies him; he watches as an array of emotions cross her face. It makes him ache to run his thumb along her cheekbone, soften the hard lines, and erase the sad look in her eye.

"I'm right here and I'm okay." She playfully wiggles his arm which causes him to give her a quick smile. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" Gives his arm one last squeeze, one last look of what he thinks to be regret.

And then her touch is gone as quickly as it came and he watches her as she walks away; the window with the bullet hole in his peripheral.

* * *

Castle holds the elevator door open, the smug upturn of his lips a satisfying goodbye.

"You know, that's an extraordinary woman you have there," Vaughn voices. The billionaire's words are calculated, hoping to strike a nerve thanks to the irresolute state of Castle and Beckett's relationship.

"She is," Castle answers with pride; makes sure to look Vaughn in the eye as he releases his hold on the elevator. He confidently watches as the elevator doors close inch by inch until they erase Vaughn completely from his sight.

Good riddance.

"Watch out there, Castle. If you stare at those doors hard enough, your utter disdain may bore holes into the metal." Beckett gives him an amused look as she leans against the precinct wall, her smile reaches her eyes and it makes his heart stutter.

She's beautiful. How her arms cross against her chest, how her body relaxes into the wall, her smirk meant just for him, lips he wants nothing more than to kiss again. She waits for him to give it right back to her, to come up with a witty reply, but words are completely lost to him.

She's here before him and the doubt that felt so apparent the past few days dwindles. These past four years, their history, it's how they got to be where they are today. There's a trust that has been forged that cannot be recreated.

The way she's looking at him right now, his partner against all odds; despite everything they have been through together, they are still here, in this moment. It's all a part of their story, even every coffee he's handed her or every eye roll she has given him, and by god he has no idea how it's going to end.

The steadiness of her voice fills the space between them, her words still his musings, making his breath catch.

"He's not you, you know." She pauses for a second, her lips slightly parted. "No one will ever be you."

And Castle gets a glimpse of it again. The moment where the truth is so visible, almost tangible it runs rampant throughout his body. Except this time he doesn't write it off, can't push the truth to the back of his mind and chalk it up to a near death experience where one of them is afraid they lost the other; it's right here before them with nothing on the line but them.

She loves him.

He can't help himself. He slowly makes his way towards her; and the fact that she doesn't look away fills him with unabandoned hope. Each step brings him closer to her, lines previously drawn be damned, and it amazes him how she can be nonchalantly propped up against the wall like she didn't just give him the world.

And then he's before her, and everything that has never been said makes the air thick between them, but it's breathable, and that's okay for right now.

He looks down at her, her shoulders now resting against the hard surface, her eyes a comfort, and he brings his hand to her cheek. It's electric; he revels in the feel of her skin against the palm of his hand as he briefly lets his fingers thread through her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear.

His mind is blank; his heart hammers inside his chest as she closes her eyes at the movement of his thumb along the shell of her ear; how her brow furrows when he drops his hand to lay idle at his side as if she misses the contact.

"How about I make us some coffee?" he asks her. His voice is soft, but throaty. They are in the precinct and every fiber of his being wants to lean in and kiss her right now, but not yet. This wall of hers finally doesn't feel so insurmountable and he welcomes the vision of pieces of it falling away right before his eyes.

Soon.

Beckett purses her lips at his request, failing terribly to contain her broad smile. And then her lithe body pushes off the precinct wall - she is so close to him now, he feels her breath at his chin as she teasingly knocks her shoulder against his chest before she starts to walk away from him.

He stares in wonder as her heels click with each step, how her body moves with such ease. She stops her retreat and looks over her shoulder at him, "Well, are you coming?"

Her smile is fucking contagious.

He nods (probably a few too many times) his legs finally start to carry him towards her, her voice his very own homing beacon. It's like tunnel vision; all he sees is them at the end of the tunnel, bathed in the most wonderful light.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who keeps coming back and reading! This was a prompt sent to me on tumblr and was fun to play with.


	4. Déjà vu

"Mr. Castle."

He swiftly turns around in his spot, plasters on his million dollar smile ready to greet the next fan. He doesn't mind the fame most of the time. It comes with the territory of being a handsome, talented author. _Yes, he is slightly vain._

"Where would you like it?" he asks. His pen already poised, ready to sign whatever surface that's presented to him this time.

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight." She holds up her badge for him to see, but he's already struck by the woman before him. She hits him like a ton of bricks.

He's completely enamored by her.

His mind doesn't comprehend a word she has said; her voice is not what resonates with him, but her presence does. A familiar presence that his entire being was drawn to many years ago and just like that, he gets a flicker of the long forgotten feeling, a blurry memory he can't place.

There's just something about her.

He quickly studies her; her rigid frame which just screams "I dare you to try and mess with me". The soft lines of her features - ghosts of maybe a happier time. Then there's the confidence that reverberates off of her; or maybe a better word to describe it would be strength. It surrounds her. It can be seen in her movements, the steadiness of her stance, the grip she has on her badge, how her lips fall together after she is finished speaking.

His sight reaches her eyes, but they're closed off. She's focused, determined. But there's also a sadness there that probably never leaves, the feeling she latches onto, to get through each day; perhaps what she draws strength from.

His mind is spinning, he knows her from somewhere. A subconscious recognition of a young woman he laid eyes on for only a few seconds. He just can't pinpoint how, or from when.

She's standing before him waiting for him to comply, and he feels the familiar fascination of a story that needs to be uncovered, the intrigue that she quite possibly sparked in him many years ago, something that was just ignited again.

Maybe it's his mind playing tricks on him, or maybe…just maybe this is the second push he needed to stick around long enough to understand why the universe has brought them together (again).

There's always a story.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for your patience, this week has been pretty hectic at work. I know this one is short, but it's always been my headcanon that Castle subconsciously recognized Beckett from long ago when they first met in the Pilot.

Again, thank you all for your feedback and coming back to read!


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